


The Statistics of Rollercoasters

by ThePlace



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Its also only rated teen+ for language, M/M, More characters show up but these are the main, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlace/pseuds/ThePlace
Summary: To keep Agent Stern from getting suspicious while Duck and Indrid are staying at the Lodge during a power outage, a fake relationship is cooked up. Just not the one that Duck wanted.





	1. The Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note that this is only rated teen & up for mild language, Better safe than sorry!

“Duck, are you sure this is the best idea?”

He only offers Indrid a quick glance before returning his gaze to the road, keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel throughout. “To be honest with ya, I was hoping you’d tell me.” In reality, Duck isn’t sure this is the best idea, but it's the only idea. With the power out at both Duck’s apartment and the Winnebago, Amnesty Lodge is really the only place they can go.

Indrid is silent for a moment, and when he does speak, it comes out muffled from the scarves Duck had bundled him up with before they had left. “Well, I would recommend keeping your cat away from Dr. Harris Bonkers Ph.D or Aubrey will be quite upset.”

“Duly noted.”

“There is also a slight possibility of Ned trying to convince me to come down to the Cryptonomica to say which aspects of his Mothman exhibit are accurate.”

Duck comes to a red light, giving him a chance to look over at Indrid. “You gonna go?”

“I suppose that all depends on how convincing he is,” Indrid says as he turns around to wiggle his fingers through Ella’s cat carrier in the backseat.

Looking at Indrid, seeing how the glow from the traffic light envelops all of him in a soft red haze, how he smiles just a bit too wide, yet perfect all the same, a part of Duck wants to tell Indrid how he feels right then and there. This isn’t the first time he’s thought of telling him. Once it had been when they were playing a board game. Indrid had been getting, well what Duck could only describe as flustered as Aubrey kept asking for him to guess the number the dice would land on next. Another was when they had been walking through the forest and instead of being annoyed at Duck’s constant ramblings about different trees and wildlife, Indrid actually paid attention, asked questions and just generally seemed interested in what he had to say. The last time, and probably the closest time to Duck actually gathering the nerve to say how he felt, they hadn’t even been talking. The two of them had been sitting in silence as he worked on a new model boat while Indrid sketched on the couch. The silence hadn’t been uncomfortable, but relaxing, normal even.

But every single time, Duck said nothing. Even now as they sit not a foot apart, the urge to tell him comes and goes. There was always a reason not to. For example, it would be weird to tell him right now when Indrid can’t exactly get out of the car if Duck makes him uncomfortable. Even with all of Indrid’s layers, the December chill would be too much. There’s also the fact that they would be stuck with each other at the lodge with Duck probably having to explain away with a terrible lie why Indrid didn’t want to be near him. He doesn’t want to risk it.

There’s another reason too, but dwelling on that one isn’t a fun time.

He does like to imagine though, imagine that right there in the car, Indrid would look at him and just say, I like you too, and wash away any doubts Duck had. Maybe-

“Duck?” Indrid says softly, still gazing into the back seat.

He goes still, eyes wide and staring at Indrid. “Uh yeah?”

Smiling, Indrid turns to him, “It’s green.”

“Wha-” He doesn't even get through the word before the red light drifting through the car is replaced with a murky green. “Oh.” He turns back to the snowy road ahead of them. “Thanks Indrid.”

“Anytime Duck.”

* * *

 

Walking into Amnesty Lodge with Indrid by his side, Duck immediately starts glancing around. A slow and soft melody drifts from the piano and Duck sees Moira gently sweeping across the keys. Some spicy smell with a hint of sweet comes from the kitchen, and he can only assume Barclay’s in there now cookin’ up something for dinner. Maybe parsnip soup? Duck isn’t sure. To top it all off, Agent Stern is nowhere to be seen. All good so far.

“Huh, so this is what it looks like,” Indrid comments idly as his fingers reach towards an ornate wooden clock on the wall only to pull them back at the last second. “I’ve seen it in visions before, but real life is always different.”

Before Duck can reply, Ned comes bounding over from one of the guest wings. “Look who's back!” Then, he turns on a dime to Duck’s left. “Oh Indrid, just the moth I wanted to speak to!” Ned swings around beside him and tries to put an arm around Indrid’s shoulder, but comes up short. “Now imagine this,” he says as he waves his other arm with a flourish, “The Cryptonomica-”

Duck chuckles as he watches Indrid get dragged off. “I’m gonna go talk to Barclay about getting you set up in a room for the night, y’all have fun.”

Setting down Ella’s carrier first, earning him a small meow of protest in the process, Duck makes his way over to the kitchen.

“Evenin’,” Barclay greets as Duck enters, not looking up from chopping a carrot. “Glad you made it, I was worried the roads might have given you a bit of trouble." 

He sets Barclay’s truck keys down on the tabletop. “I’m tough, it takes a bit more than some ice to take ol’ Duck down.” Then, as he leans against the counter, adds on “Also don’t hurt having someone who can foresee which roads will be the worst ridin’ shotgun." 

Barclay stops cutting for a second. “You brought Indrid?”

Without knowing what he did wrong, or even thinking that anything he did was in the realm of wrong, Duck feels like he did _something_ wrong. He hadn’t thought bringing Indrid here would be an issue. Hell he hadn’t even been thinking of it at all first. When the power had gone out across town, he’d already been up at Amnesty. His plan was only to head to his apartment, grab his cat, and then haul his ass up to the Lodge once the backup generators had been kickin’ for a while. The thought to swing by the Winnebago had only occured when he was already too far away to turn back and it wasn’t like he could’ve called or anything. “Yeah, with the heaters out at his place, he needed to be somewhere warm.” He pauses for a second. “That won’t be a problem, will it?” 

Barclay’s face scrunches and he grits his teeth like he just watched someone faceplant in the snow. Both, bad signs. “I mean, kinda?”

Duck isn’t really sure where to go from here. “Uh, why? Like is there some, I don’t know, blood feud between y’all? Are Mothmens?” He shakes his head. “Nah, that's not right. Mothpeople? And Bigfoots natural enemies?”

If anything, Barclay is scrunching his face up even more now. “What? Blood feud- No. No, no, this isn’t personal. Am I surprised he’s up here? Yeah. Indrid Cold has never been near Amnesty. Ever. But that's not an issue. The issue is all our rooms are full for the night. We gave the last one to you.” 

To be honest, Duck just starts laughing, not sure how to express his relief. “Jesus Barclay, is that all? I thought you we’re gonna go fight him on the patio or something. That's fine, Indrid can stay with me in whatever room you put me.” Well, not completely fine. Duck’s gonna be awkward as hell with Indrid sleeping in the same room, but he can handle it. Wasn’t like they’d be sharing a bed or anything.

“You will have to share a bed with him then.”

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

**Oh.**

 

He’s pretty sure Barclay is saying something. Maybe apologizing for only having one room. Or assuring him that the bed is even big enough. Possibly asking if he wants anything to eat. Duck really doesn’t know. His thoughts are focused elsewhere. Just him and Indrid sharing a bed for the night. Indrid and Duck. Sharing a bed. Okay. Yeah. The two of them together. In a bed. Yeah.

His eyes focus back in and that’s when Duck notices that Barclay stopped talking and is just staring at him. Shit he better say something.

“Oh that’s perfect!” Nope, nope that sounded weird, change course. “Uh I mean, not perfect. Two beds would obviously be better.” Ah fuck but now he sounds ungrateful. “Well one bed is better than none, don’t get me wrong. If you came to me and said Duck Newton, no bed or some bed, y’all know I’m always gonna pick some even if Indrid’s in that bed.” Great. Now Barclay’s gonna think he hates Indrid. This is going bad. Abort. Abort. Abort. “I’m gonna go- Go check on the . . . lobby. I mean the fireplace. The fireplace in the lobby. Fires are a dangerous thing, ya know? Don’t let that one there get too big.” He mumbles as he points to the small fireplace behind Barclay. “Only you can prevent forest fires and all.”

Barclay looks at him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. “Yeah, sure Duck. I’ll uh, I’ll keep an eye on it. Thanks.”

Duck gives a thumbs up as he slowly backs up towards the door. “Always happy to help.” Then, like a scalded cat, he books it out of there and back into the main area.

So that went- Not the best. There’s a pretty sizable possibility that Barclay thinks Duck is some ungrateful moron who can’t stand the thought of being near Indrid. He would ask Aubrey or Ned their opinion on just how much of a fool he made of himself, but then Duck would have to explain why he was nervous in the first place and there is no way he’s gonna do that.

Speaking of, Duck spots Ned, Aubrey and Indrid chatting on the couches closest to the hearth. Indrid still has his coat on, but he’s removed the scarves at least.

He goes over, coming in at a lull in the conversation. “So,” Duck starts as he sits down next to Aubrey who now has Ella purring away on her lap. “Did Ned convince ya?”

Indrid smiles and Duck imagines the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he does so. “Ah, no.”

“Yet I am nothing if not optimistic,” Ned boasts and Aubrey laughs. “Besides, anyone with an ounce of business senese will tell you: the question is not if but when. So Indrid, _when_ will I convince you?”

Sitting there tapping his chin, Indrid pauses before replying “Four days from now at 8pm exactly.”

Ned counts out something on his fingers before looking up. He laughs a hearty, and definitely fake, laugh. Then abruptly stops, and says deadpan. “Tell me, how does your venture into comedy go?" 

Before Duck can even begin to ask what that was all about, he hears the quick even click of someone with expensive dress shoes striding down the hall as if they were timing it to their pocket watch. Like clockwork, Agent Stern emerges from the left guestwing, spots the four of them, and immediately makes his way over, his shoes still clicking away. “Good evening Ms. Little, Mr. Newton, Mr. Chicane, and-” he stops, eyes landing on Indrid. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He closes the distance between them and sticks out his hand. “Agent Stern, nice to meet you.”

Duck glances over to Aubrey, and although he can’t quite tell if she glances back due to her sunglasses, the way her head tilts makes him think so. Indrid cannot say his real name. There is no way Agent Stern hasn’t heard of the cryptid Indrid Cold and that's going to cause way more questions than they have answers for. If he can just interject before Indrid says his name, they’ll be fine. Ok, he needs a name. Uh-

Cindrid Old

 

Carl Indigo

 

Rc Josta

 

Justin -

 

“Roger Partridge, a pleasure.” Indrid replies smoothly, shaking Agent Stern’s hand as he did. This seems enough for Stern as he too sits down.

Again, they exchanged glances. This time with Aubrey slightly nodding. Duck didn’t know why he was even worried. Indrid’s had years of evading detection. Of course he has a fake name at the ready. Duck just needs to take a breath, calm down and don’t panic. Everything would be fine.

And to Duck’s immense relief, everything did seem to be going fine. Ned begins chatting with Stern, asking all sorts of questions in what Duck can only assume is a tactic so Stern can’t do the same to Indrid, or Roger he supposes. Is he going home for the holidays? Does he want to participate in the Amnesty Lodge holiday gift exchange? Would he mind speaking at one of the junior chamber of commerce meetings? Did he enjoy today's issue of the Lamplighter? Agent Stern seems completely distracted and now all Duck has to do is figure out a good moment to excuse Indrid and himself for the night and then decide how in the world he is gonna explain that there’s only one bed.

Unfortunately, Duck doesn’t get the luxury of thinking out his battle strategy as he watches Agent Stern suddenly focus his full attention on none other than Indrid. 

“Oh,” Stern mutters softly, eyes narrowing as he points to Indrid’s chest. “That necklace, you and Barclay have the same one.”

Duck makes a sound as he looks over at Indrid and sees his orange crystal pendant poking out from underneath his many layers. He doesn’t even try to come up with a lie this time, because to tell the truth, Duck has no idea why they have the same necklace. They’ve met once or twice outside the lodge, but that's the short and quick of it.

Duck doesn’t worry though, Indrid’s sure to have some story already cooked up and then they can continue on with their evening.

He waits.

 

And waits.

 

And waits.

 

Indrid isn’t saying anything and to his credit, his face is as impenetrable as his glasses. However, Duck, ever perceptive, notices the way he’s not really breathing, how his head is just slightly tilted, his hands just a touch too tight. With all of that, he can only draw one conclusion: Indrid didn’t know that he and Barclay have the same necklace and is now, unusually and unfortunately, unprepared. 

More than anything, Duck wishes he could think up some lie to spin. But what is there to say? That it's just a coincidence that they both have the same very unique necklace? That there was a buy one get one free goin’ on?

Aubrey must have realised the same thing as Duck as she quickly interjects, drawing Stern’s attention away. “Oh yeah your necklaces!” Aubrey says with confidence. Duck breathes a sigh of relief and makes a mental note to thank Aubrey later. Any time he didn’t have to come up with a lie was all good in Duck’s book. “Barclay got that for your anniversary, didn’t he?”

Oh.

 

Fuck.


	2. The Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to be falling into the lie of Indrid and Barclay being together so naturally. Everyone but Duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the lovely comments!! I hope you all enjoy chapter 2!

Now Duck don’t wanna be overdramatic or nothing, but in this moment as he wraps his head around the lie that has just been put forth into the world, it feels like he’s in a car on an icy road spinning out of control. ‘Cept he’s not driving. He’s in the backseat screaming and trying to kick out the windows, praying he gets out of this alive.

Indrid for his part, looks far calmer than Duck feels. Smiling, he asks, “Oh this?” as he holds the pendant between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re quite right, Aubrey. It was an anniversary present. Barclay’s always so thoughtful like that.”

On the one hand, Duck is grateful that Indrid’s a better liar than he is, because to be honest, that was pretty convincing. On the other, it was so convincing that Duck’s stomach dropped a good sixty feet into the Earth when he heard it and he really doesn’t want to experience that feeling again.

Leaning back in his seat, Ned looks so at ease as he adds fuel to this terrible, awful fire. “Roger, if I’m not mistaken, that was your one year anniversary, correct?”

How has Duck ended up in the worst possible timeline? Were he and Indrid supposed to have crashed Barclay’s truck on the way over and this was just the Universe's way of righting itself? Or maybe Duck and Indrid had crashed the car and now Duck’s dying brain is making him feel better for not making it to the lodge if this is what he would of had to deal with.

“Mmm, I thought the watch was the one year, the necklaces were the two year anniversary.” Aubrey corrects, seamlessly slipping into the story in a way that Duck never could. He knows why they’re doing this. Ned always says that if you’re telling a lie and everyone agrees on every detail, it seems staged. But if the big picture is constant and some of the little details are argued about, well then you’ve got a pretty good lie going.

“Right again Aubrey,” Indrid says as his left hand lightly wraps around his right wrist. “Unfortunately though that watch broke a few months back. However,” he adds on, drawing out the word. “with the holidays coming up, I get the feeling a new one might be in my future.” He laughs and Duck isn’t entirely sure that it's just for the lie. “Don’t tell Barclay though. He hates it when I guess what gifts he's getting me.”

Duck is dead. Dead and in hell.

“My I had no idea Barclay was seeing anyone,” Stern comments, but there’s an underlying edge to it. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around the Lodge before.”

Ned sighs. “We’re always telling him to come up here more often. Can’t spend all your time with your nose stuck in your paints, Roger.”

Next to him, Agent Stern perks up and Duck feels them slowly crawling out the danger zone. “Oh you’re an artist Mr. Partridge?”

“Indeed. I love my work, but it does take up a vast majority of my time. That’s where these come in,” he says as he fiddles with his necklace. “Keeps us close even when I’m far.”

For a fraction of a second, a teensy-tiny part of Duck wonders if Barclay and Indrid actually have been in a steady relationship and hes just the last to find out about it, because damn, its like they rehearsed this or something. He immediately realizes how dumb that is, but the tightness in his chest remains.

Indrid and Agent Stern continue talking about art, with Aubrey and Ned occasionally jumping in, but Duck remains silent. To the others, they probably think he’s saving them the trouble of covering up whatever god-awful lie would dribble out of his mouth if he spoke and Duck knows he wouldn’t go out of his way to correct them. Hell, even if he was the best goddamn liar on this world or the next, Duck don’t think he could force himself to play along with this one. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he's acting like a fool. He knows Barclay and Indrid aren’t really together. He knows that the alternative to this lie is so much worse that even thinking of it sends a shiver up his spine. He even knows that, all in all, it was a pretty good lie, better than any Duck could’ve thought up.

None of that changes the fact that sitting here listening to Indrid talk about Barclay in a way Duck has imagined himself talking about Indrid, well . . . It sucks.

As he continues staring down a lamp, Duck is vaguely aware of the creak of a door opening somewhere, but he doesn’t think much of it. Only when he hears the clink of cutlery does Duck stop staring at the the lighting and instead glances up. Immediately he sees Barclay making his way over to them carrying a tray of tea.

If Agent Stern wasn’t sitting right next to him, Duck would have been furiously shaking his head in a silent plea for Barclay to please go somewhere else. Since that isn’t the case though, he resorts to just staring him down and praying that Barclay’s really good at reading the room.

Turns out he's not.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Barclay begins as he reaches the couches. “Thought you all might be thirsty?”

There are murmurs of thanks and Duck immediately grabs one of the cups just so he has something to do with his hands. If he keeps digging his fingers into the fabric of his pants, Agent Stern’s gonna get suspicious.

With all the cups set down, Barclay rights himself and smiles. “Well if you all need anything, just let me know.”

“Join us for a minute, won’t you Barclay?” Stern asks, motioning towards the empty spot next to Ned. “You’ve been running around all day, why not take a break?”

He hesitates. “Uh, sure? Won’t be able to chat for long though.” Then, as he begins to sit down, Ned decides that Duck hasn’t suffered enough today as he jumps up from his spot on the couch.

“Here Barclay, you can sit next to Roger,” Ned offers with a smile. “I don’t want to be the one that comes between you two lovebirds.”

Eyes darting from Ned to Indrid to Agent Stern, Barclay takes a single second for himself before exhaling and sitting down. “Thanks Ned. That's . . . That’s kind of you.”

One of these days the three of them are gonna have to get Barclay a cake for all the shit they get him into.

“You know Barclay, Roger was just showing off the matching necklaces you got for your anniversary!” Aubrey says, seemingly trying to fit as much vital info into the sentence as possible. She even nods towards Indrid when she says Roger to drive the point home. “You have to let me know where you got them!”

Duck doesn’t miss the way Barclay’s eyes dart towards Indrids necklace and then widen just a hair. Interesting. More importantly though, a wave of slight understanding passes over his face. “Yeah, yeah of course Aubrey. It was uh, a while ago so I’ll see if I can dig up the name of the shop for you.”

Aubrey just responds with two thumbs up and a smile before going back to petting Ella.

Clearing his throat, Barclay starts scooting his hand towards Indrid’s own and Duck can’t do anything but stare as Indrid is the one to close the gap and intertwine their fingers.

He hadn’t even looked down. He had done it so smoothly.

The conversation continues without Duck as he is brought back to a memory. He and Indrid had been sitting on his couch watching some cheesy horror movie Ned was showing on Saturday Night Dead. Duck doesn’t remember the specifics because he really hadn’t been paying attention. All of his focus had been on mustering up the courage to reach over and hold Indrid’s hand. That’s one way you could do it, right? No need for confessions and all that if you just start holding hands? So then slowly, ever so slowly, Duck’s fingers had reached towards Indrid’s, only to pull away at the last second.

Back then, Indrid hadn’t closed the distance between him and Duck, but now here he is with Barclay, holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Duck?” Barclay says and it's like everyone just remembered that he's there too as now ten eyes stare him down. “You doing okay?”

In the reflection of Indrid’s glasses, Duck gets a clear picture of what he looks like in that moment. The right side of his hair is sticking up every which way and Duck can only assume he's been absentmindedly running his hand through it. He’s clutching the tea cup like its a lifeline to shore and his mouth hangs open ever so slightly.

He tries to swallow but his mouth is dry and so he quickly takes a sip of his tea. “Cold,” he manages to get out, his grip on the cup tightening. “I’m cold, that’s all.”

Duck catches Ned out of the corner of his eye looking like he's physically restraining himself from making some dumb pun. Probably something like ‘I thought _he_ was Cold’ as he points to Indrid. Luckily for everyone, he manages to keep a hold of himself.

“Oh, I can whip you up some soup? It won’t be french onion unfortunately, but we got some tomato that should warm you right up.” Barclay offers as he gestures behind him, back towards the kitchen.

Fuck, now Duck feels even worse. “I don’t wanna cause any extra work or-”

“It's no trouble,” Barclay says already getting up. But before he's even taken a step, Indrid stands up too.

“Here honey, I’ll help you.”

“Ah,” Barclay pauses. “That’d be great- Sweetie.”

Even though hearing them exchange pet names is, not fun, and watching as Indrid reaches up and whisper something in Barclay’s ear as they walk away is, surprise, bad, neither of those compare to seeing Barclay lean down and plant a quick kiss on Indrid’s forehead.

That ones the fucking worst.

“Well,” Agent Stern says, pausing only to stir in more sugar to his tea. “Don’t they make a lovely couple?”

Duck doesn’t take his eyes off the two of them when he says, “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Agent Stern mills around for a bit, but Duck isn’t paying attention. He doesn’t even notice that he got up until Aubrey nudges Duck, eyebrows raised and a grin on her face, forcing him back down to reality.

“That went pretty great,” she says and Ned nods in agreement.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Duck looks between the two of them. “Was I watching some other conversation? How- In what Universe was that pretty great?”

Ned glances behind him first before he says, “Well our good friend Agent Stern seems convinced.”

“But they can’t keep this up forever,” Duck retorts, his voice raising an octave. “Eventually the two of them are gonna slip and we’re gonna be in a pickle when that happens.”

“Unless~” Aubrey sings.

“Unless?”

Aubrey continues. “They stop having to fake it.”

Duck couldn’t be more thankful that he hadn’t been drinking his tea at that moment cause he knows he would have accidentally just spat it all over Ned’s face.

“Think about it, Indrid and Barclay are going to have to sell that their together, right? So as time goes on of them holding hands, using pet names, maybe they start to realise that they have more in common than they first realized and then . . .”

“They won't- They don’t have anything in common.” Duck quickly assures himself.

“Don’t they?” Ned replies and Duck wishes those two words had been flipped around with a period slapped on the end. “Both from Sylvain.”

“Both now living here,” Aubrey chimes in.

“Both protecting Kepler.”

“Ooh I bet Barclay could make Indrid fresh eggnog!”

“Maybe Indrid could teach Barclay to draw!”

As they go back and forth, Duck feels his stomach twist tighter and tighter. Maybe . . . Maybe Indrid and Barclay did have a lot in common. Maybe they could understand each other in a way Duck never could. Maybe this is what Indrid wanted all along. Maybe the reason Indrid never made the first move was because he foresaw a future where he and Barclay got together. A future that looked far better than any future with Duck.

Swallowing and blinking hard, Duck gets ready to come up with a lie to get out of there. Go and take a walk or something, far away from everyone. However, before he can, he notices something very alarming.

Aubrey is glancing towards the kitchen, then to Duck, back to the kitchen, back to Duck, all the while her mouth moving without any sounds actually coming out. This goes on for a good few seconds before she gasps and snaps her fingers, accidentally causing a small spark to spring into existence.

“Hey, hey, hey, watch that now. I’ve already had to talk to Barclay about fire hazards tonight, don’t wanna-”

“You.” Aubrey cuts him off.

“Me?” Duck points to himself.

Gesturing off towards the kitchen, Aubrey keeps eye contact when she says “Indrid-”

“-Now wait just a second-”

“You and Indrid!”

“Aubrey-”

“You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Barclay and Indrid?”

Even though Aubrey said that at nothing more than a loud whisper, Duck winces as if she had screamed it from the rooftop. “Quiet down will ya? I’m not jealous, okay?”

Ned strokes a hand through his beard and shakes his head. “Duck’s right, he’s not jealous.”

He sighs in relief. “Thank you Ned.”

“He’s _envious_. Big difference.”

“Edmund!”

“Jealousy-” Ned continues on, ignoring Duck’s protest. “-is the worry that someone will take what you have. Envy is wanting something someone else has. In this case, Barclay would be jealous and Duck would be envious. An important distinction.”

Duck swears he feels his hair getting even grayer than it already was from the last thirty minutes alone.

He slowly realizes that his friends are staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer a question he hadn’t heard. His confusion must be obvious because Aubrey repeats her question.

“So, how long have you . . .” Her eyes again flicker to the kitchen door. “You know?”

Rubbing his temples, Duck decides that lying really isn’t an option. Aubrey and Ned know his tells. Well to be honest, it seems most people knew his tells. Professional poker player was just never in the cards for him.

“Awhile. Okay.”

Ned leans forward and Duck gets the distinct feeling they’re planning some sort of heist. “Well does Indrid know about your ah, crush?”

Duck sputters like a writer desperately trying to come up with a simile. “Dammit Ned, don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound like some pining teen.”

Smiling, Ned puts out his hands in what is probably supposed to be placating. “Okay, okay, but the point still stands. Does he know?”

“Well, I mean, I haven’t- But uh, you know,” Duck gestures vaguely to his eyes. “So he probably knows. Right? Right. And since he ain’t said anything, its a non-starter. And I, you know what? If he and Barclay are gonna- well who I am to get in the way and-” He sets down his cup with a clang and nearby Moira misses the next note in her song. “It don’t even matter. I gotta, uh, go. To my room. Good night.”

“Duck-” Aubrey calls after him but Duck is already up and beelining out of the common area. Now does Duck know what room is his? No. Does he even have a key for any room here? Nope. Does he realize either if the last two things? Well no. In fact, Duck gets all the way to the end of the hallway before it dawns on him that going back to the main room is necessary.

Steeling himself for just a moment, Duck strides back out, walking right past Aubrey and Ned as they try to call out to him.

“Duck wait-”

“C’mon man!”

He doesn’t wait. He walks with a destination already in his mind and nothing is going to stop him.

“Duck? I have your soup,” Barclay calls out from behind him.

Well maybe one thing will stop him.

Pausing for just a second, Duck quickly spins around, strides over to Barclay, gently grabs the tray, says “Thank ya,” then spins right back around and straight out of the lodge. He may be a walking catastrophe, but Barclay went to trouble of makin’ him soup and Duck doesn’t want to be rude or nothin’. He isn’t a monster.

 

Just a coward.


	3. The Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck gets a pep talk and is definetly not panicking. Who said he was panicking? Certainly not Duck. No panicking here.

Wood creaking. 

 

Feet shuffling.

 

Doors shutting.

 

Duck listens to all the sounds of the residents of Amnesty Lodge above him as he slurps his soup on the floor of the basement panic room. At some point, he’s hoping that everyone goes to bed so he can sneak on up there and grab some toast or something. For now though, he is perfectly content to hide out down here.

Apart of him can’t help but worry. Now that Ned and Aubrey know his little secret, what if they decide that Duck needs help . . . wooing Indrid? Or fuck, what if they just tell Indrid themselves? He shakes his head. No. They wouldn’t do that. Still, the thought of going back up there and facing everyone? Facing the  _ happy couple _ ? Duck can’t do it. Not yet.

A sudden knock on the panic room door sends Duck swallowing his soup the wrong way and he's only vaguely aware of someone letting themselves in through his coughing fit.

When he finally gets his bearings, he looks up to see Aubrey standing in the doorway, holding his cat and smiling softly. “Hey Duck, can I come in?”

Coughing one last time, Duck nods at her and then sets his soup bowl to the side.

Without saying anything, Aubrey sits down on the floor with him and places Ella on his lap. For a minute, the two of them sit there, Duck running his hands down Ella’s soft fur, Aubrey drawing patterns on the dusty floor.

Finally, Aubrey says, her voice low, “Duck, I’m sorry about the lie with the necklaces and-”

“Now wait a second,” Duck interrupts. “None of that now. You don’t need to apologise for that. I’m the one who should be sayin’ sorry, down here sulking like a little kid when I’m a grown-ass-man.” He sighs. “It was a good lie Aubrey and I’m glad you said it. Don’t know what I would’ve said if I’d been the one to spin a tale. Probably something real dumb- like they’re brothers.”

Aubrey laughs. “I can see the family resemblance.”

“Oh yeah, scrawniest guy you’ve ever seen and a man who looks like a lumberjack who eats other, smaller lumberjacks for power, its uncanny.”

The two of them laugh for a second before the silence comes back. But this time it's less awkward and more welcome.

“For real though Duck,” Aubrey continues, looking at him now. “I would’ve said something else if I had known.”

Duck looks back at her, “I know you would’ve Aubrey.”

“I only thought of them being, you know, together, because I had the idea about getting matching necklaces for Dani and I awhile back. I mean, not weird crystal necklaces that are probably definitely magic and maybe dangerous?” She pauses for a second, looking up at the ceiling in concentration, before saying, “We should probably look into that, huh?”

He shrugs and leans his head back against the wall. “Probably. Also, you should. Get the necklaces for you and Dani I mean. I think she’d really like that.”

Her smile is soft and her voice is softer when she says, “Why don’t you come on back upstairs? You shouldn’t be down here alone panicking-”

“Pshh, I’m not panicking,” Duck quickly lies, the panic in voice evident as the words echo off the panic room walls. “What uh, gave you that impression?”

Aubrey just sighs and pushes her sunglasses up a bit. “Alright Duck. You shouldn’t be down here alone calm, cool, collected and definitely not panicking. Better?”

“Much. But still, I ain’t going up there to watch Barclay and Indrid snuggling by the hearth or nothing.”

Aubrey reaches over and starts scratching Ella underneath her chin. “Agent Stern’s gone to bed, there's no reason for them to keep the act going. It's not like they’re actually together.”

“It’ll sure seem like it though. They’re gonna go around the lodge using pet names and holding hands and makin’ out and-

“Why would they be making out?” Aubrey asks incredulously and Ella mews at the sudden lack of chin scratches. “I know Barclay gave him a little peck on the head earlier but thats  _ way _ different!”

Duck throws his hands in the air. “I- I don’t know! What if Agent Stern don’t believe they’re together and asks ‘em to kiss to prove it?”

“He’s an FBI agent!” Aubrey clearly and slowly pronounces every word like she doesn’t think Duck will understand otherwise. “He’s not going to ask them to kiss! That's like, a violation of power or something! We could file a complaint.”

In response, Duck just groans and puts his head in his hands before mumbling out something

“What was that Duck?”

He repeats himself, not removing his hands though.

Aubrey leans closer. “One more time?”

He finally looks up and says far louder than he wanted to, “Indrid don’t feel the same way, alright?” Then far quieter repeats, “He just doesn’t.”

Scooting around so that they two of them are now facing one another, Aubrey crosses her arms and looks right at Duck. “And how do you know that?”

“Well,” Duck rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I’ve thought about it before. Telling him. Hell I nearly told him on the ride over here. And don’t get me wrong, I’m no expert on Indrid’s future-vision thingy, but there must’ve been a future where I wasn’t a damn coward and told him, right? So . . .”

God he doesn’t want to say it. This- This is the thought he never likes to dwell on. Thinking about it makes his palms sweaty and his chest hot. But he has to make Aubrey understand why they can’t win this battle.

“He has to to have seen it. Seen me confessin’ to him. So if he felt the same, wouldn’t he have told me? But he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t. So if I go up there and start telling him how I feel, all I’m gonna do is make a fool of myself more than I already have.” 

Aubrey scrunches up her face, opens her mouth and then closes it. Suddenly, she stands up and begins pacing the room.

“Um, Aubrey? What’re you-”

She dismisses him with a wave of her hand and Duck swears he can see the numbers forming in the air around her as she thinks. She mutters under her breath, making motions with her hands and Duck just sits and watches, going back to petting Ella as he does.

Finally, Aubrey smiles triumphantly and plops down once again next to Duck. “Okay, okay, okay, let me see if I can explain it,” she begins. “Do you know what the chances of dying on a roller coaster are?”

Duck does a double take. “What does this have to do-”

“Just trust me. Do you know?”

He shakes his head.

“One in seven-hundred and fifty million.”

Not really seeing where this is going, Duck just responds, “One, I don’t know how you have that fact at ready. Two, I have no idea if that's accurate but I ain’t even been on a roller coaster, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

In a flash, Aubrey whips her head around to Duck. “You’ve never been on a roller coaster! We gotta-” Then just as quick, she shakes her head again. “Not the time. Later though. But as I was saying even when the probability of getting on and off that roller coaster with no problems is so high, people are still scared of going on. What if something goes wrong? What if this is that one time in seven-hundred and fifty million where they don’t get off? It's not probable and the outcome is basically already known, but that tiny chance stops people from having a great time.”

As much as Duck wants that all to click, for it all to make sense, for him to be able to throw away his worry, it doesn’t. “Look, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I don’t have the uh, the luxury of a one in seven hundred million-”

“Seven-hundred and fifty” Aubrey corrects.

“Yeah, a one in seven hundred and fifty million chance of this going south. Hell, it's probably more like a one in seven hundred and fifty million chance of things going right if I’m being honest.”

She shakes her head. “Duck, I’m not talking about you- I’m talking about Indrid.”

He freezes. 

“Indrid probably can see all these futures where you tell him. He probably knows that more likely than not, if he told you how he feels, you’d be down. But knowing how something will probably go doesn’t make it any less scary. There's always the chance that something will go wrong.”

Now, Duck bets Aubrey can see the mental math floating around his own head.

Standing up once again and stretching, Aubrey starts making her way to the door, but before she gets there, Duck calls out, “But how do you know he feels the same?”

She shrugs. “I’m pretty observant.” She reaches for the door handle, but pulls away, instead turning around. “Besides,” she taps her sunglasses. “Shades can hide a lot, you know?”

And although Duck has no proof, he gets the distinct feeling Aubrey just winked at him.

 

* * *

  
  


It takes a while, but Duck does, eventually, emerge from the panic room.

The only sound is the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet as he walks back around the Lodge under the cover of darkness. He’s thought a lot about what Aubrey said. The idea of Indrid being just as scared as Duck is . . . hard to wrap his head around, but if it's true? Well Duck still isn’t planning on telling him anytime soon. The only reason he’s even braving goin’ up there is to get some toast and then sneak back down to the basement.

As he shuffles inside, still thinking of Indrid, Duck sighs in relief that the lobby is empty and now only lit by a small light in the kitchen that Barclay probably left on by accident. Side stepping some of the creakier floor boards, Duck tiptoes to the kitchen, opens the door and-

And comes face to face with Indrid holding a frozen Hot Pocket.

Both of them stare at each other for a few moments, Indrid somehow seeming as surprised as Duck.

Finally, Duck whispers “Oh, uh, hey Indrid,” as he gives him a little wave.

This earns him a small smile. “Hello Duck.”

In the silence that follows, the tick of a clock somewhere nearby seems to fill the whole room, pressing down on Duck’s chest with every single second that goes by.

Just to break the silence, Duck points to the frozen hot pocket and comments, “I’m surprised that Barclay keeps those things stocked here. Don’t seem like a microwave meal kinda guy.”

Indrid looks down at his hands as if he had forgotten what he is holding. “Oh yes. It was rather well hidden at the back of the freezer, Barclay’s secret stash I presume.” As he speaks, Indrid goes over to the microwave and swaps out a mug of nog for his hot pocket then starts it up. “I’ll purchase some more for him later, but for now this can be our little secret, hm?” And then he smiles and Duck feels his heart skip a beat

However, the moment doesn’t last as Indrid’s words suddenly remind Duck of what he had said earlier about not letting Barclay know that Indrid had guessed what gift he was getting for the holidays.

Duck nods, staring intently at his own shoes as he does so. “‘Course. Don’t wanna do anything to break up the happy couple,” he mutters and instantly feels guilt seep through him.

He doesn’t see it, but he hears Indrid let out a soft sigh.

The ticking is back and this time it’s deafening.

“Indrid can I uh, can I ask you something?” Duck says, just for a reprieve from the second hand of the clock.

Indrid brings up his cup of steaming nog to his lips, but doesn’t drink. Instead he replies, “Why do Barclay and I have the same necklace?” and then takes a small sip. 

It’s Ducks turn to smile. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

“You’ve seen the crystal in Sylvain, yes? Seen how it has been broken?” Duck nods and Indrid holds up his necklace to the light. “Well this is a part of it.”

Eyes wide and mouth open, Duck can only think to stare at that little crystal. It makes sense, the colors are the same and everything, but he has seen how the sylphs guard that crystal and well, the idea that they’d let even a fraction of it out of their sights didn’t really compute.

“Long story, well really a  _ very  _ long story, short, I was given this necklace before coming to Earth in order to sustain me during my time here.” Setting down his cup of nog, Indrid lifts the necklace over his head and begins turning it over in his hands, rubbing his thumb over one of the flat surfaces. “They are extremely hard to come by. The few pieces we have in Sylvain are heavily guarded and getting caught with one when you are not supposed to have it,” He places the necklace back on. “Well banishment would be the least of your worries.”

Lot to unpack there and Duck makes a mental reminder to ask if Indrid will tell him that very long story one of these days. “Huh. So uh, if you don’t mind me askin’, why’d ya look so spooked when you heard Barclay had one too?

Indrid tilts his head. “Oh because I have absolutely no fucking idea how Barclay got his,” Indrid says so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.

And Duck can’t help but laugh.

The buildup, the offhand way he said it, the head tilt, the cursing, god it was all so good.

As Duck tries to muffle his laughter with his hand, he watches as Indrid starts to lightly laugh too. “Now Duck Newton, I get the distinct feeling you’re teasing me.”

He tries shaking his head but coupled with the way his chest is shaking with stifled laughter, he must look a bit silly cause now Indrid’s laughing even more. “Naw, I’m not I- I promise. It's just-” he wipes a tear from his eye. “How do you have no idea?”

Indrid picks up his cup of nog again. “Well the Court certainly didn't give it to him, that I can tell you for sure. So where he got his,” he shrugs. “Who knows?”

Slowly, the laughter simmers down into a comfortable quiet, but Duck and Indrid still have matching grins on their faces, although Indrid’s one is a touch more wide.

“Today has certainly been a day of surprises,” Indrid says as lifts himself up to sit on one of the counters.

“Yeah?”

“Indeed. I was so focused on other far likelier futures that I was practically blindsided by the one that came to pass.” He took another, longer drink of nog and Duck catches just a glimpse of a smile that disappears behind the cup. “You know, there was one future I saw where I had to go around under the name Cindrid Old, you wouldn’t of had anything to with that, now would you Duck?” And then the smile returns full force.

Ah fuck. “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he says in what he hopes is a cool voice, but by the way Indrid laughs, he’s not really sure it came across. At the same time though, if lookin’ silly meant getting a laugh outta Indrid, well maybe Duck could stand to be a bit sillier.

Duck glances behind Indrid and notices that the microwave has about ten seconds before it starts blaring to the whole lodge that his Hot Pocket is done. He should let him know so he can turn turn it off before hand.

“Indrid?”

He takes a sip of his nog, “Yes?”

Now his brain supplies the line ‘the microwave’s done’ but his heart quickly butts in and Duck suddenly finds himself saying, “Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

And then the microwave begins to beep, loud and long and high, and both men are too frozen in place to do a damn thing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To tell the truth, this chapter originally ended once Aubrey left the panic room but I decided I couldn't wait for some of that good, good late night kitchen talk. Once again, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! (Also raise your hand if the ending of episode 22 scared the shit out of you!)


	4. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are lies, regrets, realizations and truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this chapter is around 2,500 words longer than I anticipated so . . . oops?  
> Also side note: I made minor changes to the previous chapters, but they're literally all just correcting spelling mistakes, except for one part in the first chapter where I changed it from 'January Chill' to 'December Chill' because they talk about the holidays in the second chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

Snow is falling lazily outside. The smell of tomato sauce wafts from the microwave. A dim light casts shadows across the countertops. The soft plip plip plip of egg nog dripping to the floor carries on in time to the tick of the clock.

And no one says a word.

Across the room, still sitting on the counter, Indrid is just facing him, mouth open and breaths slow and Duck can’t stand it. Never before has he wanted Indrid to not being wearing those damn glasses more than right now. If he could just catch a glimpse of his eyes, he might get a better understanding of what’s going through Indrid’s head. But no, all Duck sees is his own scared face staring back at him and it makes him wants to run. Run like he always does.

But he doesn’t.

Instead Duck stays rooted in place, screwing his eyes shut so tight so all he sees are hints of color flashing across the dark.

Finally, Indrid whispers, barely audible, “What did you just ask me?”

Taking a shaky breath, Duck motions to approximately where the microwave is, because there is no way he’s opening his eyes and just mutters “The microwave’s done.”

He hears a slight thump as presumably, Indrid hops down from the counter. “See that’s what I thought you were going to say.” Now he hears soft footsteps. “But is that what you said?”

“Ya know I think you’re supposed to uh, flip over the hot pocket half way through. Gives ya a more . . .” The footsteps stop. “ . . . Even . . . cook . . .” His words trail off and with his eyes still shut, he’s not exactly sure where Indrid is in the room.

Suddenly, in a whisper that’s so soft he almost thinks he imagines it, he hears Indrid utter a single word.

“Duck.”

He opens his eyes and there right in front of him, so close that he can feel wisps of breath ghosting across his cheeks, is Indrid. But now, the confused look is gone, replaced with a hopeful growing smile. Honestly though, that isn’t the thing that catches Duck’s attention. What does is the fact that Indrid has pushed his glasses up so they’re resting on top of his head, giving Duck an unobstructed look into the deepest brown eyes he has ever seen. He’s caught glimpses of them before, sure, but it was always from the side. This . . . this is something so different.

And yet, Duck sees something so familiar in those eyes.

Cause Duck can’t count the number of times he’s seen his own face reflected back in Indrid’s glasses, and therefore can’t count the number of times he’s seen himself giving Indrid this exact same look. 

 

One of longing.

 

One of hope

 

One of love.

 

And so it is with these words filling his head and heart that Duck asks without a hint of hesitation, “Indrid Cold would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Duck Newton,” Indrid breathes, still smiling. “I would love nothing more.”

Outside the snow is falling faster. The smell of tomato sauce fades. The light illuminating the room flickers. The puddle of eggnog grows cold on the floor.

And no one says a word.

They don’t have to.

Still staring, Duck just catches the way Indrid’s eyes quickly glance down to his lips and Duck can’t help but wonder how many times Indrid’s done that before, always safe in the knowledge that those glasses will keep his secret. ‘Cept for now that is.

He feels himself leaning in before his brain even tells him to do so and like a mirror, Indrid does the same. It's almost agonizing, how slow the two of them move, his heart beating what feels like a million times before Duck’s lips are just a hair's breadth away from Indrid’s.

And then, as quick as a flash of lightning, the space between them becomes too much to bear and Duck closes the gap so there isn't anything in the world that could come between them.

Indrid’s lips are rough and cracked and cold and perfect and the press of them against his own makes Duck’s lungs feel like they’re aflame, like this steady fluttering in his stomach is the new normal, like if his hands ain’t in Indrids hair or clinging to his clothes he’ll float off into the stars and Indrid’s gonna have to fly up there and catch him.

So caught up in the way this feels, how  _ perfect _ this feels, Duck don’t even register the fact that one of Indrid’s hands has snuck into his hair until his thumb lightly trails down the nape of his neck and Duck can only shiver and gasp, allowing Indrid to deepen the kiss.

The taste- God Duck can’t enough of how Indrid tastes. Every slide of his lips brings out something new, something rich. Hints of spicy and sweet sweep across his tongue and Duck can’t help but find something familiar in-

Eggnog. He’s literally just tasting the eggnog Indrid had been drinkin’.

Without meaning too, Duck starts laughing into the kiss and Indrid only pauses for a moment before he’s laughing too. Now they ain’t even really kissing, just smiling against each other, but Duck would be damned if he didn’t think that this is just as perfect.

They do eventually break apart, Duck’s chest heaving more than it has any right too. He doesn’t stop staring at Indrid though, he half thinks he can’t. This does give him the perfect opportunity to notice something he really hasn’t had the chance to see before. With Indrid’s glasses pushed away from his face, the red blooming on his cheeks stands out, no longer overshadowed by the the red of the glasses.

Huh. Aubrey was right. Shades really can hide a lot. 

“I . . .” Indrid is trying to get control of his smile and Duck happily notes that he’s failing miserably. “I think we have some things to discuss.”

“Ya know,” As he tries to think up a reply, Duck realises he’s in the same boat as Indrid- He can’t stop smiling either. “I reckon we do.”

This almost doesn’t feel real, like if he woke up the next moment back in bed at home, he wouldn’t be surprised. But at the same time, the lingering spark radiating throughout his body lets Duck know that this ain’t a dream. Dreams never feel this good.

“Duck,” Indrid suddenly says, an odd twinge to his voice that Duck chalks up to the same butterflies he must have in his stomach too.

Still grinning, Duck can’t stop staring at Indrid when he warmly replies “Yeah?”

However, instead of a matching smile, Indrid looks confused. “What? No I meant duck as in-” He starts waving his hands around like he's trying to push something down. Then his pupils dilate as if all the lights in the room went out and not a second later, they’re back to normal. Duck barely has time to register what the fuck that was about before Indrid’s glasses are back in place and he harshly whispers, “ _ Hide _ .”

Oh. That Duck can understand. Without so much as a word, Duck moves as quietly as he can to the side of the kitchen island away from the door. Just as he crouches down, his back pressed against the wood paneling, he hears the soft click of a door opening and shutting somewhere nearby.

Fucking seriously?

He desperately wants to ask Indrid whose coming, but he’s completely out of sight at the moment. Sneaking a peek around the island, Duck spots him peering into the open fridge all the while going through the motions of looking for something in there.

God does he have time to get a better hiding spot? The cabinets probably wouldn’t fit him even if he did take out all the pots and pans first and also, Duck doesn’t need magic powers to know that whoever walks through that door is gonna notice twenty different frying pans littering the floor. No, Duck will stay put.

Just then, the kitchen door opens with a creak and Duck barely catches a glimpse of the bottoms of some well tailored blue pajama pants before he quickly hides back behind the island.

“Oh,” Indrid says in, definitely fake, surprise to whoever just entered. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in.”

The fridge door shuts and in the silence that follows, he can’t help but worry that even his breaths are too loud.

“Ah I apologise Mr. Partridge,” the even tone of Agent Stern sounds out. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Not many people are usually awake at this time of night you see.”

Indrid lets out a little “Mhmm” in agreement as he walks around to the side of the counter where Duck is currently hiding, leaning down so his forearms are flat against the countertops. From his position on the floor, Duck’s gotta pretty good view of Indrid. He’s got his glasses back on, but the angle he’s at means he can’t really see much reflected in them. However, Duck finds that he can’t stop staring at Indrid’s lips. Like yeah, he knows that ogling the Mothman while hiding from a federal agent isn’t one of Duck’s  _ best _ ideas, but he can’t help it. The feeling of Indrid kissing him still fizzles across his lips and Duck finds himself running his fingers across his mouth like he still can’t believe it actually happened.

And as Duck gazes up at Indrid, he gets the distinct feeling that behind those shades, Indrid might be looking down at him too, cause in that moment, Indrid’s thumb slightly grazes his own lip.

It doesn’t last long though as Indrid walks over to the microwave to get his Hot Pocket. “No need to apologise Agent Stern. My sleep schedule is out of sorts to say the least, drives Barclay mad.”

“Does it now,” Agent Stern replies, his voice straight and tight, like one of his ties.

Indrid walks back over with his plate and from the sound of it, Duck guesses Agent Stern is across from him on the other side of the kitchen island. God this sucks.

Someone, probably Stern, starts drumming their fingers on the wooden countertop and it somehow makes everything far more nerve wracking. Why can’t he just get his glass of water or something and go back to bed? Why’s he gotta lurk in here?

“Mr. Partridge,” Agent stern starts and Duck imagines him straightening his spine as he does so. “May I be blunt?”

Above him, Indrid nods.

“You and Barclay are not romantically involved.” There’s no question to it. No room for denial. It is a statement said by someone who knows they’re right.

Duck’s fingers go from tracing the edge of his lower lip to covering his mouth entirely to stop himself from cursing out how shit of a situation they’re in. Fuck if he had Beacon with him, he could . . . Slash his ankles? Ugh this is terrible. Only Duck could go from kissing the man he’s been pining after for months to being a witness to an FBI agent finally pulling the wool from his own eyes.

And then Indrid replies. But Duck’s pretty sure he heard him wrong cause it sounded like Indrid just said “You’re absolutely right,” and not some variation of ‘how dare you question my loving relationship, I won’t stand it’ or something of that nature that Duck thought he’d say.

Apparently, Stern is in the same boat as Duck because he voices the very thing that’s going through his own head, “Pardon?”

“I said you’re absolutely right,” Indrid repeats, either ignoring or not noticing Duck mouthing ‘ _ what the fuck _ ’ beneath him. “Barclay and I are not in a relationship, never have been truth be told.”

Duck would give anything to see Stern’s face in that moment cause although the silence says a lot, it doesn't say everything.

“To be honest, I’m rather glad you caught on,” Indrid continues. “Lying to a federal agent is certainly not something I want to make a habit of. I suppose you’d like to know as to why we lied in the first place, hmm?”

Agent Stern doesn’t hesitate when he says, voice low and syllables clipped, “Very much so.”

“It was, oh it must have been around four months ago. Aubrey, Ned and Jake, maybe Dani as well, I can’t remember, they had been, for lack of a better word, pestering Barclay about his love life.” Indrid chuckles. “They kept tricking him into blind dates, if you’ll believe it.”

A small laugh escapes Stern’s lips and Duck hopes that’s a good sign. “Oh I believe it.”

“Anyways,” Indrid reaches up and fidgets with his glasses. “One day Barclay simply had enough and told them he was already in a relationship with me. Worked rather well at getting them off his back in my opinion.”

This . . . This is not where Duck saw this going.

“So then the necklaces . . .”

“Just something to sell the lie. Like I said Agent, the majority of my time is truly taken up by my work so I don’t venture up here often. These served as a reminder that we’re ‘together’-” Indrid explains, air quotes and all. “-Even when I’m not around.”

Duck holds his breath.

“You know Mr.Partridge,” Agent Stern starts and Duck hears him take a step forward. “I cannot thank you enough for your candor.”

Oh thank god.

“No need to thank me. I feel rather terrible that you got caught up in this lie in the first place.” Indrid pauses. “May I ask though, what gave us away?”

Agent Stern takes another step and all Duck can do is trust that Indrid will stop him before he gets close enough to see him hiding behind the island. “Well the fact that no one here had ever mentioned you before was a bit odd, and coupled with how Barclay said the word,” Agent Stern clears his throat, “ _ Sweetie _ like it was some foreign phrase, well . . .”

Indrid laughs and comments, “Makes sense,” but Duck can tell off the bat that its a fake laugh. Its deeper than his real laugh, his head doesn’t tilt back like normal, his smile is still in the range of ‘average human smile’ and not the wide one Duck’s used to.

But Agent Stern doesn’t know any of this and so doesn’t know how he was just lied to six ways from Sunday. Duck hears a cupboard open and the sound of the faucet running lets Duck know that Stern’s getting water, so he’s also hopefully getting the hell out of there soon.

“Well thank you for speaking with me, this has been certainly,” Stern pauses for a beat too long. “-Telling. But I think I’ll head back to bed now.”

“Anytime.”

Duck counts nine footsteps before they stop again, “There was one other thing,” Stern comments, his voice slightly higher than before.

“Oh?”

“Yes, another reason you’re ah, relationship, wasn’t the most convincing.”

One of Indrid’s hands dips below the countertop and he starts fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt. “Do tell.”

“It’s just- well to be honest, I had been under the impression you and Ranger Newton were together. Silly me.” And although Duck doesn’t know why, he gets the feeling that Agent Stern smiles when he says “Oh and don’t worry Mr. Partridge, your secret is safe.”

And then he walks out of the kitchen, leaving Duck wondering which secret Stern was talkin’ about.

Duck waits until he hears the door off in the guest wing open and shut before he starts to stand up. Just as he opens his mouth, Indrid turns to him, a single finger over his lips and shaking his head slightly. Slowly, Duck sits back down on the floor and watches as Indrid continues throughout the kitchen like nothing is wrong. He cleans up the spilled eggnog, takes a few bites of his food, even puts away a dish or two. About a minute passes before Duck finally hears what Indrid must have seen coming: The quiet click of the door opening and shutting for real this time.

Agent Stern had been waiting in the hallway outside his room, waiting for Indrid to do . . . Well Duck don’t rightly know. But hopefully, any suspicions he had were dashed.

Still remaining silent, Indrid motions for Duck to stand up and nods off towards the other guest wing. Without a word, the two of them make their way past rows of doors, only pausing for Indrid to fish his key out of his pocket, before slipping into the room.

Indrid opens his mouth to speak but Duck beats him to it.

“What the hell was that?”

“I’m going to assume you’re referring to the lie with Agent Stern?” He asks casually as he goes over and shuts the curtains.

“Got in one,” Duck plops down at the foot of the bed. “I mean, did you come up with that on the spot? Also did Stern believe you? Cause I was pretty sure he did up until the end there and also why of all things was this-” He motions between them, “-the thing he picked up on when he can barely notice honest to god screaming coming from the basement and also-”

He suddenly notices that Indrid’s climbed into the bed and is sitting near the headboard bundled up in what looks like all the covers Amnesty Lodge has. He goes silent, remembering what they had been up to before being rudely interrupted. With just his head poking out from his blanket nest, Indrid looks a bit silly (and honestly real cute) when he states, “Like I said, we have some things to discuss.”

Duck nods.

“So let me start off by saying, no I did not come up with that lie that on the spot. Barclay and I spent quite some time tonight trying to think of an idea of how to get out of our,” He adjusts his glasses, “Predicament.”

Okay that just brings up more questions.

“Now I know I’m not exactly the uh, the best liar," Indrid makes a noise at that phrase. "-but I gotta ask why just, breaking up wasn’t on the table?”

Indrid shimmies further into his blanket cocoon and- Did Indrid ever go into a cocoon when he was little? Like how far does the whole moth things go and- No Duck’s gettin’ off topic, he can ask that another time. For now, Duck focuses back in when Indrid says, “That actually was one of the possibilities we came up. That and faking my death among other equally terrible ideas.”

Either Indrid foresaw him askin’ or he can just the see the question growin’ on his face because Indrid then explains, “Breaking up immediately after Agent Stern found out about the relationship would seem suspicious, coupled with the fact that we would have to pretend to be ex-lovers every time I came to the lodge, it all just seemed too risky. Besides, making Agent Stern believe we trust him enough to let him in on this secret should hopefully instill in him some sense of camaraderie.”

A part of Duck wants to ask more questions about Indrid and Barclay’s late night brainstorming session to get them out of their fake relationship, but the second question he asked is just a bit more important.

“Gotcha, but still does-”

“Agent Stern suspect anything?” Indrid finishes. “Like I’ve said before, I’m no mind reader but-” Just then, a hard shiver runs through Indrid and the bundle of blankets around him gets tighter. “But-”

“Hold on there a sec,” Duck interrupts, worry coloring his words. “You still cold?”

In response Indrid just nods.

Now to put it in perspective, the next words out of Duck Newton’s mouth are not sauve. They are not said with confidence and they are certainly not well prepared. They  _ are _ said with a face redder than Indrid’s glasses with a bit of hesitation thrown in there for good measure. But Duck says them anyways, and he says them with something far more important than the rest - Sincerity. “Ya know, I uh, I’ve been told, that I- Fuck. I’m pretty warm? And since you’re cold, not like your last name, I mean, shit, yeah like your name but also not?” He sighs and then the rest of the words come tumbling out of his mouth. “I could join you under there if ya want. But not like-” He raises his eyebrows. “Ya know. Not that, don’t think I’m ready for-” 

“Duck?”

Looking up, he sees that Indrid has unfurled himself from the blankets and is now holding up one side, a smile on his face.

Without another word, Duck goes and situates himself under the covers so that's he’s sitting up against the headboard with Indrid pressed close to his side.

“Fuck you weren’t kiddin’, you’re cold as a popsicle.”

Indrid laughs and in doing so, gets even closer to Duck. “And you were right, you are quite warm.”

He nearly points out that part of that warmth probably comes from embarrassment, but then Indrid’s back to talking about Agent Stern and Duck makes a mental note that when they do go on their date, neither of them are allowed to bring up the FBI in any way shape or form.

“As I was saying before, whether Agent Stern suspects us or not, I have no idea. What I can say is that in the current set of futures I can see, he does not act on any suspicions he may or may not have.” Indrid shifts slightly so he’s looking more directly at Duck. “But again, I don’t see all futures and new ones may appear in time. For now though, we should be fine.”

Duck feels some of the tension that’s been building in his shoulders all night ease up. He’s still gonna be worried as hell whenever Stern’s nearby, but at least the likelihood of him kickin’ in their door tonight’s pretty unlikely. That just leaves one last question. The question that's been on Duck’s mind for months.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Duck asks, his voice low and soft, not accusatory, but hesitant. “Knew that I liked you, knew I’ve been wantin’ to ask you out for some time now. Cause I’m guessin’ one of those futures of yours must’ve shown you . . . well something.”

Indrid’s fingers curl at the edges of the blanket. “Yes, I did see futures where you told me.”

_ Knew it. _

“But you have to understand,” Indrid continues, grasping at the blankets now. “I would see one future where that occured and dozens more where it didn’t. And- And every single time I’d try to investigate that one future more, it would disappear, replaced by yet another where you said nothing.”

Duck doesn’t know what to say. Every time a word bubbles up to his lips, it gets pushed back down again, meaning that he’s just staring blankly at Indrid.

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, I’m no mind reader. So I could never figure out why you never said anything. Was it the timing? The place? Was it-” He swallows. “Was it me? Maybe you were changing your mind about how you felt. I know my habits can be strange. And then, I half convinced myself that they weren’t even visions, but hopes? My brain supplying me with what I wanted, but couldn’t have.”

The laugh Indrid lets out is an odd mix of happy and . . . sad?

“You know I nearly confessed how I felt on the ride over here?” Indrid asks but Duck gets the feeling he’s not really looking for a response. “I got so close and then I thought ‘what if there are a million futures where you say no that I’m just not seeing’ and so I said nothing. And then the whole thing with Barclay happened and . . .” He shrugs and then says so quietly that Duck almost strains to hear it. “And a part of me couldn’t believe that someone as kind and caring and smart and handsome and understanding and brave as you, would want anything to do with me.” 

There are a lot of ways this conversation can go, and Duck bets Indrid could see most of them if he wanted to. But something tells Duck that Indrid’s not focused on the future right now, but the present, the two of them here in this room. So Duck picks one path, not knowing for a fact that this is the best idea, but feeling that it somehow is.

“The times you foresaw me confessin’ to you,” Duck breathed, “When were they?”

Indrid turns a bit more fully to him. “Oh um, well there was the time we were walking in the forest?”

Duck remembers it vividly. “Well you know that I was gonna tell you, but I reckon you don’t know why?”

There’s a shake of his head and that’s all Duck needs to continue.

“A lot of people just pretend to listen when I start goin’ on about trees and undergrowth and all that, but not you. You asked questions and pointed out things that I know you had to look up beforehand. You cared enough to do your research. You cared what I had to say. You cared because it's important to me.” Duck can feel Indrid’s heartbeat begin racing in his chest and Duck takes this as a good sign. “When else?”

Pausing to swallow for a second, Indrid murmurs out, “Board game night.”

Duck laughs. “You were so competitive playin’ that game and the look on your face when Aubrey kept tryin’ to goad you into guessing what number the dice would land on, it was the best thing. And yet, despite how how much I knew you wanted to win, you still kept givin’ out hints to the rest of us on better ways to go.” Duck’s on a roll now and there’s no stopping him, but before he moves on, he wraps one arm around Indrid’s shoulder and gently pulls him closer. “And?”

“In the car,” Indrid whispers out, voice getting louder with the biggest smile Duck’s ever seen on his face.

“Yeah,” Duck takes a moment to breathe in the smell of Indrid’s hair, taking in scents of cloves and vanilla and charcoal. “I could tell you were nervous about coming up to the Lodge and I’m truly sorry that I didn’t do more to assure you. But despite that, you were putting on a brave face and I can’t begin to tell you how much I admire that about you.” Now Duck’s pretty sure its his own heart that's about to pound out of his chest, but he’s not done yet. “What about that time when you were drawin’ and I was makin’ my boat?”

Indrid’s eyebrows disappear behind his glasses and he tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“Ya know,” Duck starts to explain. “We were in my apartment, you were sketchin’ on the couch and I was starting to paint the hull of one of my ships. You remember that, right?”

“I remember that moment, I just-” He pauses and leans in closer. “You were going to tell me then? I . . . I didn’t see that. I must have- I suppose I was distracted by other futures.”

“That was uh, probably the closest time,” Duck admits. “The attention you were givin’ to every drawing, the way your tongue poked out when you were trying to get the shading right, the way I felt right then, I um, I never wanted it to end truth be told.” He knows his voice was getting quieter and quieter with every word but Duck also knows he can’t stop just yet. “So all of this is to say that, apart of the reason I never said nothin’ til tonight was that I had it in my head that if you could see all these futures and you felt the same, you’d just tell me, never even considering that you-” He runs a hand through his hair. “That you were feelin’ the same worries I was, cause all that stuff about not thinking someone as brave and kind and um handsome and all that-” he mutters out, feelin’ his face get hot at his words. “I thought the same things about you.”

And then Indrid’s looking at him, and Duck doesn’t need to see past his glasses to know that there are tears welling in his eyes cause honestly, there are tears in Duck’s eyes too. 

“I also thought you might be in love with Barclay but that's neither here nor there.”

Indrid’s face twists into surprise for just a second, his eyebrows making their return, before he’s laughing and Duck should be worried about waking the neighbors except he’s too busy laughing too.

“We’re a couple of fools, aren’t we?” Duck finally manages to get out between fits of laughter.

Nodding, Indrid presses in closer to Duck and through laughter says, “We certainly are.”

And then in one smooth motion, Duck tilts Indrid’s chin up as leans down to kiss him. 

A part of Duck thought that the second time around, he’d be prepared for the feeling of kissing Indrid. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The press of Indrid’s lips against his is electrifying and somehow grounding at the same time. And when Indrid hums out a pleased little noise, everything else in the room is drowned out and Duck makes every effort he can to get Indrid to make that sound again. Now how long they were kissing? Duck can’t really say. Coulda been a second or two. Coulda been hours. They were too caught up in it to keep track, like they were making up for lost time.

Eventually, kissing turns back to talking, Duck still holdin Indrid to his chest as the night churns on. They talk about anything and everything that comes to my mind. Duck tells him about his little freak out in the basement and in turn, Indrid describes his and Barclay’s quiet panic when the two of them went back to the kitchen earlier in the evening.

At some point, the two of them fall asleep. Duck only knows this because one moment he’s trying to tell Indrid a joke about Douglas Firs and then the next there’s sunlight peeking in through the curtains. There’s a comfortable weight on his chest and when Duck blinks, he sees Indrid sprawled out face down across him. He’s drooling and Duck spots a small stain forming on his shirt. With a smile on his face, Duck extracts his arm from the tangle of blankets and rests it on the small of Indrid’s back.

In response, Indrid just pulls him closer in his sleep, a contented sigh passing his lips.

The thought of doing this again, of waking up in Indrid’s arms again, of kissing him again, of talking through the night with him again, god it makes him so happy his heart hurts.

He stays there for a bit, not going back to sleep, just occasionally rubbing small circles on Indrid’s back and basking in the moment. He takes this chance to look at Indrid’s face, his eyes sweeping over every wrinkle and mole with a reverence usually reserved for looking out across a particular beautiful sunrise in the forest. Indrid stirs in his arms and for a second Duck’s sure as the stars shining above ‘em that he’s woken up. But then he just settles back down on his chest, his head over Duck’s heart.  There’s a smile on his face as he continues to look at Indrid, silently thankful that he’ll get a couple more minutes to just take all this in without feeling embarrassed and-

“Like what you see?” Indrid suddenly asks, smiling like he just caught the cat going after the cream.

Duck jumps. “Jesus christ Indrid! I thought you were asleep!”

He feels Indrid laughing before he hears him. “To be fair I was until a minute ago.” Adjusting himself so his face is closer to Duck’s own and not on his chest, Indrid continues on with laughter still bubbling on his lips. “You just couldn’t see that my eyes were open.”

“Damn glasses,” Duck grumbles with no real heat behind his words.

“If it makes you feel better,” Indrid leans down so his mouth barely brushes Duck’s ear. “I liked what I saw too.”

Yep. Now Duck is definitely blushing and he goes to hide his face in the crook of Indrid’s neck. “Now who's teasin’ who here?”

Indrid starts to answer, but then stops for a second or two before groaning and getting out of bed. Duck shoots him a look and in response, Indrid just starts smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt before simply saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.”

“Handle wha-”

And then Indrid opens the door and Duck is thankful that he’s blocked from view when he hears Aubrey frantically say, “Indrid thank god! Do you know where Duck is? We can’t find him anywhere and the last I saw him he was freaking out in the panic room but he’s not down there and there aren’t any footprints in the snow and what if froze to death? Can you use your future vision thingy to see where he is and-”

“Aubrey,” Indrid interjects calmly. “Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

Duck hears her breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god.”

Suddenly a third voice chimes in from farther away. “Does he know where Duck is?” And yep, there’s Ned. 

Indrid nods.

“So where’d our ranger run off to this time?” Ned asks and Duck don’t need future vision to know that whatever Indrid says next will be a lie for Duck’s sake and you know what? He thinks he’s had enough lies for awhile. “Over the river? Through the woods? To-

“Yeah I’m right here,” Duck corrects as he appears in the doorway, trying to keep his face neutral as Ned and Aubrey’s mouths hang open. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine. So-” He grabs ahold of the door. “Talk to ya later.” And then he shuts it in their faces.

Everything is quiet for a moment before he hears the muffled words, “Holy shit I give the best pep talks!”

He knows he’ll have to deal with that can of worms later but Duck pushes that to the back of his mind. That can be future-Duck’s problem.

Now it's just the two of them again. Indrid is smiling at him as he wraps his arms around Duck’s shoulders and asks, “So about that date, anything in mind?”

Duck smiles and he knows everything’s gonna be alright when he asks, “You ever been on a roller coaster?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats a wrap! Thank you all so much for reading this, I had such a great time writing this and reading your comments! Its kinda crazy to look back at my original idea for this fic and see where it actually ended up. I mean, even this last chapter was originally wildly different. But I'm so happy at how it all turned out and I hope you all are to! I've got some ideas for future fics in mind so be on the lookout!  
> (Also alternate titles to this chapter include: 'Agent Stern Fuck Off' 'I Describe Kissing for 10,000 Words' 'If It Can Go Wrong It Will Go Wrong' and 'Duck Newton Is A Walking Disaster But Also Not')

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! This was really fun to write and I'll hopefully write more after this fic in the future! And I honestly don't know what Duck's cat's name is in cannon, so for now I'm calling her Ella. Oh and I made a tumblr: ohducknewton where I'll post links when I update this!


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